


A Bath Tangle

by undercovercaptain



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Lady S to the rescue, gonna clean up this mess, not on my watch 2x08!, oh and fuck you Tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercovercaptain/pseuds/undercovercaptain
Summary: Still suffering from her all too recent heartbreak, Charlotte holds little hope for any change in events. But can an unexpected trip to the fashionable city of Bath at the invitation of one Lady Susan be enough to set the wheels back in motion?





	1. Something To Be Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The majority of these characters belong to Jane Austen, with their characterisation owing mostly to the writers behind the 2019 adaptation/continuation. Only the OCs are mine, though special thanks to Georgette Heyer for inspiring their names. For descriptions of Bath, thanks to Austen (Northanger Abbey, Persuasion, her own letters), as well as Heyer (Bath Tangle, Black Sheep, etc.) for their inspiration.

Not even the comforts of home could fully alleviate Charlotte’s present sorrow, which seemed instead to extend on through the days and weeks that passed, never abating despite her siblings’ consoling looks and attempts to draw her into their play. No, her mind remained in disorder, her mood desolate, and her affection forever his, no matter the impossibility of their sorry situation. Oh Heart, once so much to each other! Now nothing! But his affection had been hers, had it not? She could not be deceived in that; it was not an illusion of her own vanity. He certainly loved her, though the words had never been professedly declared. And yet, a promise, once given, must be performed. But could Sidney ever be tolerably happy with Eliza Campion; could he, were his affection for herself out of the question, with his integrity, his sensibility, and well-informed mind, be satisfied with a wife like her—snobbish, artful, and selfish?

_I do not love her, you know_, that is what he had said at their final parting. Indeed, she might very well have been able to bear her own unhappiness had she not been so soundly assured of Sidney’s own misery. _You love me. I know it. I love you. You know it. We will always know it. _Charlotte had within her breast an exceptionally affectionate heart, inclined to love, and to keep on loving. And so she was resigned to her fate: one of living at home, quiet and confined, with her feelings free to prey upon her.

Charlotte may have resigned herself so, but such was not the case for another member of the Heywood brood. Indeed, it was on one Sunday evening—a distinctly wet Sunday evening—the very time of all others when if a loved one is at hand the heart must be opened, and everything told, that Alison Heywood decided that something must, in fact, be done.

“Dearest Charlotte,” she began, in a careful tone, taking a place beside her sister at the window-seat in the otherwise empty morning room. “It pains me to see you so out of humour. Tell me, please—tell me, what can be done? What can we do to remedy this?”

“Nothing,” replied Charlotte softly, her dark eyes still fixed upon the casement, where the rain was rushing down in streaming tracks, collecting into larger drops, till too full to stop themselves, they tumbled downwards once more. “There is nothing to be done. If there had been some other remedy, Sid—” She halted herself, then began again: “_Mr Parker_ would surely have found it.”

“But as you have told me, dear sister, he does not love this Eliza woman!”

“No, he does not, but I am not so naïve anymore to believe the only requisite for marriage to be mutual affection. I thought so once…” Charlotte shrugged one slim shoulder, her face wan and crestfallen as she spoke on: “But, I find I do not think so anymore.”

“Well, _I_ find that if his elder brother had not been so _foolish_ as to not properly insure his properties, your Sidney would not now be in such a cruel position as to marry without love—he would have been able to marry you!”

“Oh, Alison,” implored her sister, finally turning to face her, “you cannot blame Tom! No, you mustn’t! It is not his fault—he could not have known there would be a fire, he could not have known—”

“Charlotte,” interrupted her sister sternly, though not unkindly. “You are altogether too forgiving.”

“Alison, you must understand! Tom would have been ruined if Sidney had not…if he had not…” her voice tapered off, her dark, expressive eyes all of a sudden glossy with barely held tears.

“Perhaps I would have liked to have seen him ruined,” muttered Alison darkly, “if it meant you might’ve been spared this heartbreak.”

“I do not reproach him, either of them for that matter. There was little else to be done…I only hope—” Charlotte took a breath, closing her eyes before expelling it shakily. “I can only hope that Sanditon will indeed be saved, and that Sidney…” Tears now slipped free, unimpeded from beneath her closed lids as she struggled to find the words for which to express herself.

“_Charlotte_.” Alison reached for her hand and held it tightly between her own. “All is not lost. Until the vows have been spoken, all is not lost.”

Before the housemaid had lit the fire the next day, or the sun gained any power over that still, late summer morning, Alison, only half dressed, was kneeling against one of the morning room’s window-seats for the sake of all the light she could command from it, and writing as fast as her hand would permit her. She had carefully extracted the desired address from Charlotte’s drawer within their shared writing desk, shortly after yesterday evening’s conversation, optimistic that her sister would forgive the intrusion. For if she was successful in sending off her letter with the first post, she was hopeful that it might reach London that very same evening. Indeed, such was her good fortune that the following afternoon one of the younger Heywoods came bounding into the parlour with a letter for his eldest sister. Alison tried not to appear too inquisitive as she hovered by Charlotte’s side, perceiving with shrewd eyes the elegant script that adorned the paper, before averting her gaze with a pleased smile and soundlessly departing the room, leaving Charlotte alone to her letter:

_ DEAREST CHARLOTTE — You must thank your sister for having the good sense to write to me. Indeed, it comforts me to know that there is another who holds your happiness in such high regard, as I do myself. Oh my dear, what a blow, what cruelty you have had to suffer for one so young! I fear I am in agreement with your sister when I say that I wholly blame one Tom Parker for this sorry state of affairs. Yes, yes, I daresay he is a well-meaning man on the whole. Nevertheless, the pain that he has inflicted upon yourself and his brother, no matter how unconsciously done, cannot be so easily dismissed in my eyes. But I shall not distress you by detailing my exasperation towards that man any further, instead I shall offer you an invitation, one that I very much hope you will accept. Since I had the pleasure of seeing you last, I have accepted a request to visit my cousin, Mrs Stavely of Bath—indeed, as you read this letter I may very well be halfway to Somerset! How fortunate then, that your clever sister was able to get word to me before such a time. So, my dearest Charlotte, I must implore you to join me forthwith, and together we shall see what can be done. — YOUR FRIEND, SUSAN_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After that brutal finale I felt compelled to fix it. Hopefully I'm off to a promising start!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments :)
> 
> Cappy (aka Elle) x


	2. Taking the Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this update – I meant to have it finished a lot earlier, but uni work got in the way! Hope you enjoy this chapter though, and thank you for all your lovely comments :)
> 
> Disclaimer: The majority of these characters belong to Jane Austen, with their characterisation owing mostly to the writers behind the 2019 adaptation/continuation. Only the OCs are mine, though special thanks to Georgette Heyer for inspiring their names. For descriptions of Bath, thanks to Austen (Northanger Abbey, Persuasion, her own letters), as well as Heyer (Bath Tangle, Black Sheep, etc.) for their inspiration.

_DEAREST GEORGIANA — I hope this letter finds you well and that you can forgive me for not having been a more constant correspondent these past few weeks. In truth, I have had little to write about: my life in Willingden has lately been nothing more than a slow succession of busy nothings. Although to be home and in the company of loved ones has been of great comfort, I have often found myself at times longing to be back in Sanditon; for one does not love a place less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering. Indeed, whatever has passed, I cannot think too badly of my time there. But I do not wish to recount with you past events. Instead, I am writing to tell you that I am currently in Bath, at the invitation of my friend, Lady Susan Worcester. Her cousin, Mrs Stavely, has been kind enough to accommodate me at her home in Sydney Place (pray, do not remark upon the name! The irony is not lost upon me). I have been here scarcely two days, so haven’t much to report back as of yet. Though, I remember that you would speak fondly of London, so I think you would like Bath also—it seems a terribly fashionable place with much to divert oneself; already we have received several invitations to various parties and gatherings. I say “we,” but I suspect my presence has little to do with it! I am only a gentleman farmer’s daughter, after all. So you see, I owe much to Lady Susan, as I could not hope to move in such circles without her influence. I suppose I should tell you a little of our host, Mrs Stavely: she is several years older than her cousin and has been a widow of many years now. Her husband left her an ample jointure upon his death, so her situation at Sydney Place is very comfortable. She has two daughters, both married, but who live elsewhere. As to her character, I find her to be, on the whole, good-humoured and merry. She also talks a great deal, which suits me very well as I find my spirits still remain rather out of sorts, so conversation on my part can be quite taxing. I am afraid I must end this letter here, as we are due to visit the Pump Room within the hour. Please, if you see them, send my love to the Parkers and tell Mary that I shall write to her soon. — YOUR AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, CHARLOTTE_

After placing her letter in the hands of one of Mrs Stavely’s footmen, Charlotte, garbed in her best blue spencer, was swiftly ushered into a waiting carriage. Viewed under the influence of a meridian sun, and through the medium of an unclouded atmosphere, the smoothness and cream-coloured appearance of the freestone gave the houses such an air of cleanliness so as that the overall mood of the carriage ride was unusually cheerful, despite Charlotte’s overhanging melancholy. Rows of houses passed by her carriage window, complete with very handsome long-paved forecourts and enclosed with iron rails. Indeed, the city of Bath could scarcely be refused the claim of being one of the most fashionable and superior places of resort out of the Metropolis, even to the most fastidious admirer of taste and elegance. At Charlotte’s first glance of its sweeping crescents and honey-toned terraces, the city had appeared to her a truly enchanting place, and perhaps, quite crucially, just the vehicle for diversion she was in need of.

Prior to their departure and the completion of her letter to Georgiana, Lady Susan’s personal maid had wrangled Charlotte’s wayward curls into a stylish up-do; so well done was the end result that she was almost inclined to believe that she might be mistaken for one of the usual Bath crowd, and not the provincial girl she knew herself to be. Indeed, it was a welcome distraction: to imagine herself someone different and far apart from herself, quite unrelated and unburdened by the recent pain of disappointed hopes. Yes, but to appear happy when one was so miserable — that was the true task at hand!

Stepping outside of the carriage, the ladies betook themselves directly to the Pump Room, where it was Mrs Stavely’s custom (unless the weather was inclement, or some more agreeable diversion offered itself) to imbibe, in small, distasteful sips, a glass of the celebrated waters. Upon entering this elegant and spacious room, Charlotte hesitated in her step to admire its grand interior, which was set round with three-quarter columns of the Corinthian style, crowned with an entablature of classical bands and mouldings, in a covering of over five feet. At the centre of the southern side of the room was the pump itself, from which the waters issued out of a finely wrought marble vase. Loathe to get caught in the crush, despite her awe at her surroundings, Charlotte promptly moved to regain her place beside Lady Susan and Mrs Stavely, who had just then encountered a number of the latter’s friends: one Mrs Taverner, a matron of similar years and standing to Mrs Stavely, along with her two young, marriageable daughters—Miss Katherine Taverner and Miss Phoebe.

Already immersed in conversation, Charlotte felt a sudden hesitance to intrude upon their discussion, though she knew, as Mrs Stavely’s guest, she had every right to do so. Indeed, to those persons who are fond of bustle and gaiety, this promenade in the Pump Room might be found highly attractive. However, for Charlotte Heywood, her recent rejection had made her withdrawn and somewhat wary of thronging crowds—the memory of the success of Sanditon’s regatta, of Sidney Parker’s steadying hands, and of an illuminating boat trip along the river, were altogether still very present within her mind.

Nevertheless, determining to be cheerful and to present herself well in the eyes of fashionable Bath, Charlotte took a purposeful step closer in order to catch the eye of Mrs Stavely, who met her timid gaze with a lively smile. Soon enough, she then found herself quite the new focus of the conversation:

“Oh goodness, how absent I have been! How amazingly absent; indeed, I believe I am the most absent creature in the world,” exclaimed Mrs Stavely, earning a fond laugh from her cousin. “May I present to you my new young friend, Miss Charlotte Heywood, lately of—of…Oh, where was it, my dear?” She looked to Charlotte suddenly a fluster, as though she were a park pigeon, ruffled by an unexpected breeze.

“Of Sanditon, ma’am,” Charlotte replied softly, smiling politely despite the pang of bittersweet grief that came from every mention of the name.

“Sanditon, you say?” spoke Mrs Taverner, with an air of interest; “I believe my sister-in-law was there not long ago for a regatta, or some such entertainment. Charming little place, though not a patch on Brighton, I daresay.”

“I believe it is quite the up and coming destination,” spoke Lady Susan with an amiable smile; at the sound of this soft interjection, Mrs Taverner found herself immediately nodding in deference.

“Oh yes, I daresay,” she agreed readily, “I daresay, Lady Worcester. Yes, I remember now that dear Margaret spoke as much: a very promising coastal retreat. And you have lately been there, Miss Heywood?”

“Yes, only a month or so since.”

“Well, how fortunate you are, my dear! First Sanditon, now Bath!”

“Yes, I am very grateful to have been so well travelled. I must thank you again, Mrs Stavely, for accommodating me.” Charlotte gave a sweet smile to the aforementioned lady, which further cemented her in Mrs Stavely’s good opinion.

“Oh, think nothing of it, my dear! Cousin Susan has spoken so highly of you, that I was loathe to give up the chance of making your acquaintance.”

“You are too kind,” murmured Charlotte, flushing slightly.

“And how would you compare the two, Miss Heywood? Sanditon and Bath, that is,” then spoke Miss Taverner; an ebony haired girl of about two and twenty, whose countenance might have erred on the side of plain were it not for a pair of fine and intelligent eyes. Her sister, two years her junior, was decidedly prettier, by conventional standards — her colouring fairer, her mouth smaller — but it was in such a way that was two for a penny in a place like Bath, thus rendering the elder Miss Taverner the more striking of the pair.

“Both have their decided attractions, I’m sure,” replied Charlotte cautiously, silently wishing that the conversation might swiftly change its course; “but I have seen so little of Bath, so look forward to exploring it more.”

“Hmm, yes, well do keep us abreast of your opinion as it develops, Miss Heywood,” answered Miss Taverner with a mischievous smile; “for I should very much like to probe your mind further on the matter, and on the subject of this Sanditon place also.”

“I am sure I will be happy to oblige you.”

Satisfied with this answer, the topic of conversation swiftly changed in favour of a card party that was being held that evening by the Taverners at Marlborough Gardens, and to which Mrs Stavely, Lady Susan and Charlotte had also been invited.

“It is to be a tiny party, you understand,” beamed Mrs Taverner, “only a choice few ahead of Saturday’s ball at the Assembly Rooms.” The two matrons, Mrs Stavely and Mrs Taverner, soon had their heads together to discuss various particulars pertaining to that coming evening.

Thus at liberty to speak unnoticed, Lady Susan turned to Charlotte with a weary smile:

“Oh Lord, how I hate tiny parties — they force one into constant exertion.”

Charlotte stifled a laugh, and then looked nervously towards the two Miss Taverners, who were still well within earshot.

“Do not mind them, my dear,” remarked Lady Susan, offering the two sisters a mirthful look of acknowledgment; “I daresay they have had to endure a fair number of their mama’s _tiny _parties so as to quite understand and sympathise with my sentiments.”

“Indeed we do, my Lady!” answered Miss Taverner with an impish grin.

“I do not mind them so much,” interjected Miss Phoebe rather shyly, before gaining in confidence and animation as she continued to speak; “in fact, I find myself quite looking forward to this one, as Mr Jasper Vernon shall be there and so we shall hear all the latest regarding his courtship of Miss Lanyon.”

Charlotte exchanged an amused look with Lady Susan, who simply smirked good-naturedly at her and then averted her gaze to glance languidly around the bustling Pump Room, where at the western end of the room was a gallery where several musicians were now assembling themselves in preparation for an impending performance.

“Is Miss Lanyon receptive to Mr Vernon’s attentions?” Charlotte inquired. 

“Decidedly not!” laughed Miss Taverner, earning a perplexed look from Charlotte, which prompted Miss Phoebe to explain better:

“Isabella Lanyon is Viscount Sherringham’s daughter, of Undershore, an estate just outside the city, and an heiress of considerable fortune.” As she relayed this information, Miss Phoebe’s eyes had a wild intensity about them, altogether at odds with her previous meekness: “Mr Vernon is cousin to the late Lady Sherringham, the second son of a baronet and—”

“Utterly grasping and odious,” interrupted Miss Taverner with a roll of her eyes, prompting a light chuckle from Lady Susan and a burgeoning smile from Charlotte.

“Yes, well,” added Phoebe, a tad crossly; “as I was just about to say, as the second son to a baronet, he must therefore make a rather good match for himself, if he wishes to continuing living as he does. But they are entirely ill-suited and—”

“He is utterly grasping and odious!”

“Kitty!”

As the two sisters glared and laughed at each other, respectively, Lady Susan now turned to Charlotte with an amused smile.

“So, my dear, are you not glad that you came to Bath?”

“Of course,” spoke Charlotte, before blushing slightly and lowering her voice to a soft murmur: “I must thank you again for such thoughtfulness. I daresay friendship really is the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.” She smiled a shade forlornly, her dark eyes becoming momentarily downcast.

“She may be in possession of a decidedly large fortune, my dear,” began Lady Susan, just as softly, but no less adamantly; “but I cannot think our Mrs C to be in possession of any great deal of sense.”

“What can you mean by that?”

“For a woman as proud as she, to attach herself to a man who quite clearly is only marrying her to prevent the ruination of his brother, and who is still, no doubt, very much in love with another…well, it is quite senseless, my dear! And in my experience, such senselessness never bodes well in a courtship, let alone an engagement.”

Charlotte tried to laugh affably, as though to dismiss Lady Susan’s words as mere speculation, lest she attach all her hopes to them; but instead, no noise issued forth, and so she remained looking rather stunned.

“Yes,” continued her companion unperturbed, with a knowing smile; “I would go as far as to say that I am of the opinion that _Mrs C _she will remain to be, for _Mrs P _is a name reserved for an altogether superior creature.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks and credit to Pierce Egan's 'A Walk Through Bath' (1819), which was really useful with getting some good period city details into this chapter. 
> 
> Was planning on having a certain someone show up in this chapter, but decided to save that for the next chapter...any guesses for where exactly he might show up?? ;)
> 
> Comments, as always, are very much appreciated,
> 
> Cappy x


End file.
